Glimmers

"Grandma?"

"Yes, dear," she looked at me with loving eyes, holding my hand warmly."Was the sky this far?" I waited for her answer patiently while admiring her wrinkled hand.She laughed.

"Of course, love, it's the same sky for ages."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, but it was a bit bluer."

"Oh... I wish I lived in that time."

"Don't say that, Maren... you're still young. Maybe the world will get better when you grow up."

"Are you sure?"

"Certainly, young people such as yourself can make a change, darling."

"I'll change the world!!"

"Of course, darling."

"I love you, Grandma!!"

I jumped next to her on the sofa. I put my head on her knees and slept peacefully.

I dreamed of saving the world.

I was a young girl with an old soul. I knew I belonged to the past. I grew up, and it only got worse. The world fell apart. Humanity was gone—religious conflicts, greed, and injustice. This world is beyond cruelty. The strong feed on the weak. The world changed so much that the stories from the past seemed like fairy tales. My parents used to tell me sweet stories. I couldn't imagine them.

History books are my fantasy novels. I don't like new literature because it reflects our world. Our world is dark. People say when you get overwhelmed by darkness, look for the light. That light, for me, was my parents and an intense longing for a world long gone.

My father used to tell me, when I was walking to school, that he loved the smell of flowers. It was weird to me because the flowers in my world didn’t smell; they were made of plastic. At least I had that. Now, children are homeschooled.

My little brother used to love the story about the plastic flower. He loved every word I said. I loved everything about him.

This world was too bad for him. He couldn't survive for long.

"Maren?" My mom entered my room quietly.

"You can't stay like this forever, my darling... I know it hurts... I'm hurting too." She stopped talking and gave in to tears. I cried in her arms.

"He was such an angel, he didn't deserve to die this way," my voice was muffled because of crying, but my mother understood me.

"Your brother is an angel, he's back to where he belongs... heaven."

We kept crying, holding each other. No one visited us to comfort us because, in our time, people are very distant from each other—in actual distance and in spirit. There's no communication of any sort. The nearest neighbor is 20 miles away. I don't even know who my neighbors are.

We rarely get out of our houses because the air is contaminated. Even with the new scientific achievements, "The Layer," our air is still polluted. After the scientists sensed that "Antarctic ozone depletion" became dangerous, they tried many ways to bring it back to normal, but they failed, and the situation grew more dangerous.

Until they invented The Layer. It protects our world from any outside dangers, such as contaminated air or even comets. It's growing weaker every day; they said that on the news.

Every year, young people from the age of 16 to 18 pass a test. The first one can choose the career they want and stay home, and the others enter into a vote. I'm at that age now, and I'm scared because this vote is a mysterious selection of names. No one knows what the selection is based on—it's pure chance. The winner of the vote leaves his family and this part of town to work at The Tower. Without The Tower, we would've been dead a really long time ago. It controls the new technologies that protect the remaining parts of the ruined world. That’s the only stuff we know about The Tower.

"Father, why do they keep The Tower very secretive?" I asked him as we were walking. We usually go walking in the morning.

"Well, I don’t know. There's a reason for sure."

We kept walking in silence. We suddenly stopped.

"See that deserted land behind those houses?" he asked.

"Yeah, what's about it?" I inquired.

"There used to be water. It separated the continent in the old days."

"I didn't know that!" I was happy with the new information, but it's sad.

Half of the world is gone. There used to be four continents: Africa, America, Asia, and Europe. Also, Australia. The continents were separated with oceans and seas. Now there's only South Europe, North Africa, and parts of Asia. South Europe and North Africa aren't separated by the Mediterranean Sea. It's gone. As you know, the continents move and change the world's shape. The Tower is situated there, between North Africa and South Europe.

The continents' movements aren't the only reason for this drastic change in geography but also  pollution, nuclear wars, and natural catastrophes .

My favorite activity is to go outside and read.

When I read old books, I always marvel at their desire to grasp the meaning of life and enjoy every bit of it. I find it kind of difficult. All I do is survive, not live—which is common these days. Living is rare; it's something for poets, I guess. But my soul isn't fulfilled enough.

Poets had their ways of escaping and navigating reality. I didn’t know how to do that.

Like everyone else, I dreamed of success. Of being at the top. Of choosing my own path.

But fate said otherwise.

Despite my efforts and sleepless nights, I failed.

It was a shock. An unpleasant surprise.

Now I was trapped. My fate was in the hands of a corrupt government.

The vote results were to be announced next week. Posters were everywhere. Someone had even stuck one on my window.

I tore it down and went to bed.

Lying there, I stared at the gray walls of my room.

My parents hated the color.

I hated it too.

But it was the only shade that reflected my soul—caught between darkness and brightness.

I kept wondering about my fate.

This wasn’t how I pictured myself as a child.

"Dear diary, when I grow up, I’ll be a doctor like my father! I’ll make lots of money and buy us a house in the rich quarter!"

It was funny how fate worked.

At dinner, my mother frowned. "You barely touched your food."

"I'm not hungry," I said coldly.

"You haven’t eaten for days!"

"I said I’m not hungry," I snapped.

"I’m tired of this!" She stood up, furious, and left the table.

"Go after your mother and apologize," my father said.

I didn’t move.

"You’re not the only one who’s miserable! You failed once—so what? It’s not the end of the world! Pull yourself together, young lady!"

His words usually didn’t affect me because I know he means no harm .

This time, I shed a tear.

I left him alone.

I wanted them to be proud of me.

That week, I didn’t go outside. I couldn’t bear people’s questions. People I had never spoken to before were suddenly interested in me.

I spent my days in my room, lost in thought.

When I finally slept, my nightmares haunted me.

I dreamed of drowning. Of dying.

But the worst nightmare was hearing my own name announced as the winner of the vote.

I woke up in the middle of the night to drink water.

As I passed my parents' room, I stopped, thinking about every awful word I had said to them.

Then, sharp knocks on the door.

I opened it.

A weeping mother stood there with her three children, their little faces wet with tears, their lips dry.

"Please… help us. We’re starving."

I said nothing. I invited her inside.

My parents woke up, perplexed. My mom went directly to make something for the woman and her kids. We left the kitchen for them to feel comfortable.

They ate in silence.

Before the woman left, I offered her some warm clothes.

"May God bring happiness into your hearts just like you did to mine," she said.

I didn't know how to reply—I just smiled.

The poor lady and her children left us. To her, happiness was a piece of bread. What is happiness to me?

Maybe happiness is something only grateful people have, and I'm not one of them.

My parents went back to sleep, while I remained awake.

I wandered around the house, looking at every corner. Each part of it had its own effect on me. I grew up here—it’s a part of who I am. These were my last moments in this house. It deserved a celebration, but I didn’t feel cheerful.

What I felt was a mix of melancholy and nostalgia. All of this—my house, my life—was about to become a memory